


What do you do in orcish captivity? Are you pretty? Will you service us?

by theway



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Pregnancy, Anal Sex, Anilingus, Armpit Kink, Ass to Mouth, Bestiality, Blood, Body Horror, Body Modification, Body Worship, Chastity Device, Cuckolding, Dirty Talk, Double Anal Penetration, Elves, Erotica, F/M, Foot Fetish, Foot Jobs, Gang Rape, Group Sex, Inflation, Large Cock, Licking, Lolicon, Minor Character Death, Noncon to Con, Oral Sex, Orcs, Outercourse, Pedophilia, Praise Kink, Rimming, Sex Pollen, Sexual Slavery, Size Difference, Size Kink, Slavery, Sloppy Seconds, Stomach Deformation, Transformation, Urination, Virginity, Virginity Kink, Watersports, Worms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-01 03:40:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16277111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theway/pseuds/theway
Summary: A cute elf takes a bath all alone, far away from home. She soon finds herself in fine orcish company, and boy, are they cute elf connoisseurs! She's in big, huge, gigantic trouble. :)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey heeroluva, what's up my dude. Reading your letter, I felt that, though our fandoms differ, we're familiar with the same f-lists and e621s of this world. The enablers on meme convinced me to take risks, and though I had fun writing it, there is always hesitation in risk. I hope you like it.
> 
> This work is complete and won't receive further updates. To receive notifications about new works and chapters, you can subscribe [this RSS feed](https://vas.neocities.org/etc/ao3_works_feed.xml), or [my profile](/users/theway).

The moment Odilia’s toes touched the hot spring, it was like all the weight of the world had been lifted off her shoulders. This place was just heavenly; it was a real wonder how no one else seemed to know about it. She couldn’t believe her luck. It was just the right depth for her short stature and the water was neither too cold nor too warm. It was as if the gods had made this place just for her, because she was special. Ah, yes, of course they’d love her, she was most devoted, after all.

She wasn’t like those stupid adults, too scared to leave their rooms sometimes. _Too dangerous my arse,_ she thought, giggling at the unspoken profanity, so painfully constrained within the walls of civilisation. Sometimes she hated being an elf. She’d already outlived all but a handful of men—and they’d only made it that far via advanced sorcery or foul contracts—but she was still a child in their eyes, both her culture and theirs. Why did elves have to be so… so… so slow! All their haste was wasted on politics and spellcraft when it could be better spent on growing up. She didn’t know which troubled her more, her physique or society’s perception of it.

But here, all alone, far away from them, she could ruminate on possibilities until the cows came home. What she’d do once she was free. Oh, the things she’d do… She’d go on wild adventures and slay beasts, she’d act nothing like her parents or her friends. She’d make friends who saw eye to eye with her, and some not, some far wilder, and some far milder, so she could learn and guide all at once.

And perhaps a kind, gentle man, who could see past her face and not chain her down out of a misplaced sense of chivalry. But when she needed to hear it, he’d cuddle up to her and call her cute, and he’d be so very cute in return. Just thinking about it made her heart swoon. Maybe she shouldn’t be thinking like that yet, she had so many decades ahead of her, but still, she couldn’t help but feel excited. Ah, she wanted to grow up already! Why did this world have to treat youth so unjustly? If only she… If only she c—

“What do we have here? A little squirrel strayed too far off from the tree.”

Odilia jumped straight up upon hearing the raspy, inelegant voice behind her, but she didn’t even have time to turn around before something just as rough grabbed her; the assailant’s hands. He lifted her from the spring with minimal effort. She tried screaming, and no sooner had an “Ah!” left her mouth than a hand silenced her. Her voice died in her mouth, but even if she could scream as loud as she could, she was so far away from home that she doubted anyone could hear her. That didn’t stop her from trying.

“You’re a feisty one, aren’t you, boy?”

“It’s a girl, you idiot,” another one chimed in. She could see him, and that was when the panic really settled in. They were a pack of orcs, and she was defenceless and alone.

She tried flinging her limbs about, landing strikes on the orc grabbing her, but he was clad in armour, far bigger and more trained than her; she was but a frail little girl, so she had no hope of inflicting any kind of damage.

“Look at her go!” he laughed. “Look! Look!” More laughter joined in. She could hear at least four of them in the group. The orc holding her pulled her up closer to his face and smelled her hair, braided in a beautiful pattern. “Ah, so clean. Why even bother bathing? You guys are freaks!” Pissed off by the insults, she doubled down on her kicking, but the orc didn’t even budge. Rather, he let out a monstrous, far too large tongue and licked her behind her pointy ear. “You’re small, but I bet you’d taste like nectar.”

When she heard that, she froze in panic. Were they really going to eat her? Now? Was this how it was going to end? No! No! She didn’t want to be eaten! She had so much to live for, she hadn’t even… She didn’t want to die! Please, gods, anything but that, please, at the very least a painless death, she didn’t want to be eaten alive by these things. If they lay their teeth on her, she’d—

“Hold up, Ragna, that would be a waste of flesh,” one of the orcs in front of her said.

“You’re stupid. What’s better for your stomach than a cute little elf?” Ragna said.

“You wouldn’t understand. You don’t have the right stuff.” He put his hand between his thighs and squeezed. No way, the one who was holding her, that orc, that was a woman?! But her voice, her build, how— Orcs were truly abominable creatures, weren’t they? Men and women alike, bred for combat, nothing but violence and repugnance on them. Physiology class was a distant memory by now.

“Pah! Men!” Ragna said, throwing Odilia in front of her. She tried standing up so she could sprint far away from them, but as soon as she’d moved her knee, a massive axe was planted right in front her. Crude and oversized steel, stained by rust and blood, deadlier more for its sheer mass than its sharpness. That thing had to be over forty pounds, heavier than she was. Even untrained in the art of war, she could still tell a threat when she saw one.

“I’m confused, too, Gudbrand. I mean, she’s, like, a few months old,” a different orc chimed in.

“Leave it to Troels to be the dumbest fuck around,” Gudbrand snapped back. He pointed both hands towards her. “She’s an elf, shit-for-brains! Probably older than your whole family. Not that there’s many left.”

“We have things to do; leave the creep alone,” Ragna said and stepped back into the forest.

“I wanna see,” Troels said.

“Fine! Frans, with me,” she barked.

“You sure are cranky today, Ragna. Frustrated? Chief don’t treat you right?” Frans said as he followed behind her.

“Say that again, and I’ll stuff you full of worms, eat your kids, shit them in your mouth, then eat you.”

Their bickering went on for some time in the distance, growing fainter, but Odilia’s attention was Gudbrand, who was unfastening his belt. Oh, no. Oh, goodness, no…

“Please, don’t… Please, I’ll do anything.”

She didn’t know if she’d prefer getting eaten by him or enduring what he was about to do. Each orc was distinctly recognisable, and all were hideously ugly. It was almost comical how different they looked while managing to be just as disgusting; Gudbrand’s skin was lighter, he didn’t have any hair, and his face looked like he had smashed it into a wall. It was completely asymmetrical, with bone and flesh bulging out from one side but not the other, and even his nose was two nondistinct, dissimilar holes serving as nostrils; it was a wonder how he didn’t have any trouble breathing. Troels, on the other hand, had darker skin with a green tint, smaller built, was hunching, some hair on his head, and his nose was protruding forward like a spearhead.

And as soon as Gudbrand found out about _that_ , he could eat her anyway out of spite.

Compared to them, Odilia looked like an angel. Her fair skin, unused to the harshness of nature, was complimented by her blond hair, reflecting the brilliance of the midday sun; her body was lithe and attractive, even in the absence of the most obvious secondary sexual characteristics. She would look exotic among men, but compared to the orcs, the contrast was absurd.

Their species were at opposite ends of runaway selection: orcs bred for rapid gestation and maturation—perhaps also death, though few lived long enough to see a natural end. An orcish baby grew up in no time at all, entering puberty within a year or a little over that, an extremely useful feat for a warrior race, often used as meat shields by more powerful forces. Elves were the polar opposite, requiring well over a century for equivalent growth. Odilia was over 80 years old in actuality, a prepubescent girl in the eyes of a human, and a mere 7 months old for an orc. Her attackers were larger and stronger, but paradoxically they’d lived a fraction of the time she had. She’d spent more time being breastfed than they’d spent alive.

“For a little baby, you’re very pretty,” Gudbrand said.

“I’m not a baby, and you’re loathsome,” Odilia retorted, allowing all her scorn to seep through.

“From bargaining straight to insults, what a misbehaved child we have here.” He reached over for her, and she crawled back to escape. He caught a leg, and she used the other to kick at him, finding his forehead, but not doing much. “Ah, you’re so soft, it’s unreal.” He grabbed the other leg as well, then brought them together. She was so small, and he so large, that he could wrap his hand around both her ankles without issue. It wasn’t just that he was physically older, she realised; even her final state, she’d be a tiny woman, and he a strapping man. She was a mere 4 feet tall.

“Stop! Stop, you monster! Beast!” she screamed.

“Tell me more.” He traced the length of her calves with his free hand, feeling her velvety, spotless skin. His had the texture of sandpaper, and a brownish, unhealthy look, like grime, dirt, and friction damage had fused into an obscene, makeshift layer of armour. “I thought only newborns were this unspoiled by the elements.”

“You’re a paedophile, man,” Troels commented from afar.

“She’s older than my sixteen times great-grandmother, so it’s fine,” he said in a cheerful, almost singing tone, like he’d just convinced himself of a great lie, the perfect rationalisation finding itself in his brain at just the right time. Holding her like that, he had an even more perverse idea. He opened his mouth and licked her soles, figuring the recently-bathed girl was as clean as she would get, and wasn’t far off.

“Ahhh! Stop at once, you dirty, disgusting, perverted—”

“Ragna was right; you do taste great,” he said, as his licking moved from her soles to her toes. Opening his mouth wider, he ate both her feet up, the petite elf’s extremities fitting in his mouth without issue.

“What are you doing?! You’re disgusting!” Odilia yelled. The slimy sensation of his tongue almost made her puke, to say nothing of the sexualisation of what were most definitely not reproductive organs. She didn’t understand what the point of it was and how he could find it enjoyable, but she was certain now the orcs were corrupt inside and out. It was dirty and degenerate, and he was completely abominable. In Gudbrand’s eyes, however, Odilia’s feet were softer than an orcish cunt, and thus infinitely erotic.

“I know, I know. You want me to move on to the main course, huh?”

“Let me go! Let. Me. Go!” she punctuated her words with kicks, but the hideous brute only seemed to get off on it. When he’d tired of her protestations, he grabbed her by the ankles and spread her legs apart; he was strong enough to break her bones in half if he wanted to, his thumbs almost as thick as her legs were. Even if she knew an offensive spell, he was so powerful and durable that he’d shatter her into a million pieces before she could harm him. He was towering two feet over her, and any resistance was futile.

“Huh? What’s this?” he thought aloud as he laid his eyes upon her groin, a symbol etched on her otherwise bare mons pubis, shining faintly. Letting one of her legs go, he touched it with his index finger, but when he tried trailing downward to access her slit, he found that he couldn’t touch her skin, as if some invisible force was pushing him back. “It’s sealed shut? A barrier!”

“What’s going on?” Troels asked.

“I think you were just some random kid, but you must be high class to have your chastity guaranteed by sorcery! Aren’t I the fortuitous man.”

“You’ll never break through, so give it up, wretched orcs! Get your hands off me!” For elves, there was no point to sex beyond reproduction; all the better then, for charms which catalyse with chastity. She bore hers with pride, and it provided a very faint sense of security, for even if she died, brute forcing one’s way through the barrier would take longer than the age of the universe. Only a god could amass such incredible force. She hoped these orcs were the right balance of smart and stupid to understand the folly of their endeavour and let her free.

“Shame. And you looked so cute…”

“Will we be eating her then? Will we eat her?” Troels said, his eagerness disturbing to Odilia’s innocent ears.

“So uncreative.” True, it was disappointing that he couldn’t have his way with her cunt, so tantalisingly exposed under him. Hairless, unripe, and puffy, with just a hint of pink colouring its perfect design, almost if it was sculpted by the gods themselves. It was nothing like the disgusting mess of the women in the camp; it was smooth and elegant, and begging to be defiled. Oh, how good it would feel to rip it open with his cock, like feasting on a fine meal after weeks of fasting, like a good kill after a long hunt, like pillaging a defenceless town. But just because his first option couldn’t work out didn’t mean there were no others.

He reached for her thighs and dragged her closer to him. “Get your filthy hands off—” she complained, but was interrupted by Gudbrand flipping her around, face down. He lifted her hips up, putting her in the right position for the object of his desire to present itself.

“You remembered to wash down there, didn’t you? Of course you did.”

“What?! No!” She tried to escape, but he pressed a hand on her back and pushed hard enough that she couldn’t move an inch. She was stuck between him and the grass, able to flail her arms and wiggle her rear, but little else.

The elven child’s butt was skinny, as with the rest of her body, and looked even smaller on her narrow hips, but it still had a pleasant, refined shape about it, an excellent roundness that matched the rest of her features. With her body bent in this position, her slender form shone more bright, from her Venusian dimples decorating her rear, to the ridge of her spine, to the ribs peaking through from her sides. Her heritage and healing magic worked wonders, resulting in pure, unblemished skin, and despite her lack of training, she held no excess fat. The more he looked at her, the more erotic she got. Overcome by lust, he dove in and licked her anus.

Odilia screamed, as Troels commented, “Ohhh, that’s nasty.” Perhaps, but by now Gudbrand wasn’t thinking with his head. Besides, he experienced far worse every day from the wargs, or everything with legs, for that matter. Compared to that, Odilia’s taste and aroma were sublime. Her sweet, puckered hole twitched wildly under his touch, her mind a panicked mess from the assault.

“What are you licking?! Stop! That’s disgusting!” she commanded, doubling down on her efforts to escape, managing to lift herself up by a fraction for a second, before he pushed her back down like she was nothing.

“What am I licking? Do tell.”

“That’s a waste hole! That’s where I poop from!”

Her cries of revulsion were music to his ears; he wanted to hear more and more of it. He knew how humiliating it had to feel for a high and mighty elf to have her dirtiest hole eaten out by an orc, and he went out of his way to make it as disgusting as he could for her, with long, sloppy, viscous strokes of his tongue, by squeezing and spreading her arse, by drawing circles around her beautiful, untouched sphincter. Her anus ought to be tighter than even her vagina, and he was very eager to lick her and spread her until she was ready to take him the only way she could.

In spite of her resistance, her body had a mind of its own, and her too tight hole softened under his constant licking. He never would have thought he’d be able to do something like this to a tiny elf girl, but now that he’d tried it, he found it addictive beyond imagination. He had to be careful not to lick too far down, towards her virginal flower, for he’d end up pressed against the magical barrier, but he quickly got the hang of it. Her hole still pulsed, trying to resist him, and every time its movements were a little bit wider, a little bit slower, until, finally, it had spread wide enough for the tip of his tongue to fit in.

“No…! No…! I don’t want it in my butt!” she cried, her anger having given way to desperation, and desperation to tears. It felt incredibly weird to have something inserted in her arsehole, wet, long, and squirming like a snake in her rectum. Gudbrand liked her shitter before, but now he was absolutely in love. If she was soft on the outside, her insides were some sort of manifestation of a Platonic ideal of softness, and all the more adorable for how warm and wet they were. He thrust his tongue inside her unnubile intestines as deep as he could reach, tasting the juices of the little child and finding them to his liking. Bitter and salty with a paedophilic cherry on top, just how he’d liked them. He’d been with human kids before, but they were filthy, uncute, and all their teeth were in the wrong places. This little princess was top notch.

He pulled out, watching as the mix of his saliva and her intestinal fluids dripped out of her and down her prepubescent vulva. She was so erotic in her youthfulness; he wondered how anyone ever bothered fucking anything else. Maybe the elves lived for as long as they did for this reason: enjoying their girls at their peak sexual value, nice and flat, as nature had intended. He spread her butt as her anus tried to close, then thrust an experimental finger inside. “Don’t stick it in…!” Odilia cried, most of her words incomprehensible amidst her sobbing. Their size difference was so extreme, it probably felt like a grown elf’s dick was inside her.

He finger fucked her turd cutter, slowly at first, then picking up a pace. Her intestines coiled around his appendage, trying to expel it like it was waste, but all that did was give him a nice massage. Even with just his finger, he managed to bottom out in her rectum; it felt incredibly awkward for her, like she needed to use the toilet at all times, earning relief as he pulled pulled out, only to be tormented again. He added a second finger, and watched, entranced by the way her sphincter reshaped itself around the insertion, how her anus clung to his skin when he pulled out and pushed in, droplets of rectal love occasionally making their way out and trailing down his wrist.

When she started getting a bit too dry, he replaced his fingers with his tongue and licked around her shitting hole, taking in the scent of her most intimate part. Ah, it was exquisite. The taste of immorality. The taste of decay. She’d all but given up by now, giving in to the fact that she couldn’t escape her captors, so much more powerful and dangerous than she was. To think that someone of her position would be reduced to this pitiful state, to have her arsehole eaten up and cleaned by orcs, all because they couldn’t have their way with her cunt.

At least she was alive, and with any hope she’d stay alive until someone noticed her absence and tried to rescue her. For all the despicable, disgraceful things she’d endured, for the many more yet to come, she would come out of it her innocence intact, still a beautiful, untouched maiden, but for a single blemish. Healing arts would nourish her body back to health, and perhaps time would mend the mental scars. How long could this orc focus on her arsehole, anyway? He ought to get tired any moment now.

Turns out Gudbrand was a very patient man, and kept alternating between stretching her rear end with his fingers and lubricating it with his tongue for about an hour, not getting tired of it in the least. Troels, for his part, seemed to enjoy the voyeurism, too curious about what would happen to her elven shit pipe, and too dumb to grow impatient waiting for it. As for Odilia, to her dismay, her cries of disgust, shame, and desperation had died down, giving way to something… different. The invasion of her dirtiest hole was still a very strange sensation, but that strangeness had gradually acquired a different character, a more relieving edge. The little girl would never admit it, but she was on the fast track course for her budding anal sexuality.

Finally, Gudbrand had given her “sufficient” rectal stretching. An hour of his tongue and fingers was the equivalent of a legion of horny elves having their way with this child, not that they ever would. Those sons of bitches were practically asexual aside from what was strictly necessary for reproduction; couldn’t even understand what they were missing out on. A pitiful existence, he thought, for what is life without a beautiful, oversexualised little kid on your lap? Sure, there was plundering and murdering, but nothing made his heart beat like some good old-fashioned child molesting.

Gudbrand took his tongue out of her shitter for the last time, then leaned back to enjoy the fruits of his labour. What was once a pucker sealed shut and tinted in the faintest of pinks was now a soft, red ring opening and closing, allowing his vision to pry inside and gaze upon the bright colour of her guts. Her gaping anus was still so small, but it was nonetheless a thing of beauty, a work of art, perhaps his greatest masterpiece yet. Who said that orcs couldn’t appreciate beautiful things? Of course he could, otherwise he wouldn’t know which one deserved to be stretched to breaking point.

“I think you’re ready now,” he said.

“R-ready for what?” Odilia asked, her fear of what was to come greater than sounding potentially conversational.

“Why, the main event, of course.” Though he much liked the sight of her buttocks, Gudbrand finally raised himself from their level and looked at her from above. Her back and spine were temptations in their own right. With one hand, he traced the length from her thoracic curve down to her lumbar, fingers open to maximise surface area. Like that, he covered the width of her whole body, could even pick her up if he wanted to. Oh, he loved how tiny and skinny she was, and how well her pale skin contrasted against his, weathered by scar tissue, dirt, and his own personal pigment. With the other, he waved his cock freely, placing it on her body for the sheer visualisation of how far it would reach inside of her.

“That— No!” She couldn’t see how big his phallus was, but even for someone as inexperienced as she, she could tell it was far larger than his fingers, if only by the weight alone. “That can’t fit!”

“You’re gonna rip her to pieces…,” Troels commented.

“That isn’t… where this thing goes! We— Our species aren’t even compatible!”

“Then it doesn’t matter, does it? No matter how we did it, it would be unproductive,” Gudbrand said. “But if you feel that strongly about it, I could do your good girl hole instead.”

“No! Never!” Odilia refused, though she didn’t have much control over the charm. It fed on her body’s magical energy, but that didn’t mean she could affect it. Even if she died, it would take some time, until she started rotting away, before it could be peeled off, granting access to her vulva.

“Your bad girl hole it is, then.”

Much as the orcs themselves were deformed in many unique ways, so were their reproductive organs. Gudbrand’s could barely be classified as human-like anymore; at least it didn’t have a baculum. Veins and flesh bulged out, intertwining to form a grotesque, hypertrophied structure, periodically populated by papules. His glans flared out considerably in the shape of a peach, ending in a pointy end. 8 inches long and 4 across, the depraved organ was as long as her forearm and almost as wide as her thigh, clearly not built for someone of her age and kind, but for the cavernous holes of female orcs. For something so oversized and mangled to even lie against something so perfect and beautiful was an oxymoron, let alone penetrating her.

That was precisely what excited Gudbrand. He wanted to corrupt and overpower her; he wanted to see her fall. He brought his hands to her hips—so much tinier than his own—and lined up his meat for penetration. Her twitching, inflamed anus was still recovering from his fingering and his licking, but no amount of foreplay could fully prepare her for what he was about to do to her intestines. He pushed forward, and Odilia rediscovered her voice, screaming and crying for him to stop, pleading and insulting him in the same sentence, helping him maintain his rhythm with a steady outpour of “No!”s. He pressed forward, and though his very tip could fit in, the rest of it wouldn’t be as easy. But he was a large and powerful orc, blinded by lust, and wouldn’t stop until he buried himself inside her.

When he did it, he could hear the sounds her rectum made as it stretched to its limits. Even the mouthy Odilia experienced such extreme emotions that her screaming ground down to a halt, her once virginal anal opening widening to accept more and more of the vile orc’s inflating glans, each fraction of an inch more impossible than the last, until at last its widest part was inside her, and with a small motion forward he’d already bottomed out in her petite, undeveloped rectum. He groaned as his most sensitive part was surrounded by her extreme, unrelenting tightness, by the sweet warmth of her body, by the strange mix of bodily fluids flowing inside of her.

Finding a wall didn’t dissuade her assaulter in the slightest. He pulled back ever so slightly, then thrust inside her again, sodomising her and searching for a way forward. Impossibly, he succeeded, and his disgusting organ carved a path through her defecation organ, making its way through her large intestine, as her body changed shape to welcome him, her insides deforming to his dimensions. The pain was beyond what Odilia had ever imagined, feeling something buried so deep inside of her, stretching her to breaking point. It was the most invasive thing she’d ever experienced, like if a butcher had sliced a hole in her abdomen and was tying a knot with her guts.

She lost all strength in her body, unable to even hold her hips up. Gudbrand leaned in and picked her up, her 45 pounds nothing for the mass of muscle that he was. He picked her up and stood straight, guiding his shaft inside her using her own weight for the penetration; the disgrace would be horrifying for the fair elf, but her mind was already boggled by the excruciating pain. Once his penis was fully inside of her, he stopped to appreciate her heat, her moisture, her squeezing. He used his hand to lift her head, placing it in a healthier position. Just in case, he checked her pulse; she was still with him, so he didn’t accidentally snuff her out of excitement. The self-restraint practice sessions were paying off big time.

“I take it back… I wouldn’t give this hole up for the world!” he said. “I understand now why those weirdos magicked your cunny shut: you’re a buttslut! Why mislead men when this is your heart’s true desire? Bet you can’t even poop properly without getting excited.”

“No… no…,” Odilia sobbed, life returning to her eyes, even though she dreaded it. She would have begged for a quick, painless death now; this fate was the worst, her waste canal being used like an orc’s pleasure hole. She could think of nothing more humiliating, nothing more disgraceful than… than… What was happening to her belly? She looked down at it, and it seemed out of place. She tried investigating with her hands, and this time she was certain there was more of it than she was used to. “Oh, no,” she said in a flat tone, losing her last remnant of hope, so tiny she hadn’t even realised it was there.

Troels was pointing and laughing. “You can make out your junk through her stomach! Holy shit!” He was having far too good a time considering Odilia felt she was about to die, impaled on orcish cock; laughing so hard it turned to coughing. If she was unsure about how sadistic their kind was, it was clear as day now: they enjoyed humiliating and hurting others, for that was the only way they could know fulfilment. Upon realising how irreparably, consummately degenerate they were, how empty their souls, she felt even more disgusted with herself for being reduced to this state.

Yes, she was at fault for this turn of events, she now realised. She’d been too full of herself, too impulsive in eschewing traditions and discarding mores established to protect her. Perhaps the dangers could have been communicated better, but no teacher could ever be perfect, and that was no reason for her to have been so rash. She’d allowed the momentary sense of freedom to overpower the very real danger there was; she’d failed her race, her traditions, her upbringing, and her family. In that moment, Odilia truly hated herself; that, at least, she had in common with the orcs.

Gudbrand lifted her up and pulled back, a few inches exiting her. The motion was even more evidence for her fears, and see looked in abject horror as her belly deflated, only to inflate again when he entered her, jutting out a good two inches in a long, phallic shape. “Ohhh!” he roared, as he repeated the motion and started fucking her, his arms holding her and her legs up from the backside of her knees, his hands locking her shoulders and head in place. He was manhandling her so effortlessly, she felt less a person, and more an object, a fleshy hole for him to fuck attached to a girl, not the other way around.

As his movements became wider and faster, her colon rapidly lost the resistance it initially held, almost welcoming the new shape the orc’s bestial appendage was moulding it to. Perhaps he was right: if this had been her purpose all along, it explained why she had acclimated to this forbidden sex act in less than a couple of hours. Perhaps her body was only an extension of her moral failings. After all, it, too, was sounding disgusting now, what with the change in air pressure in her orifice, producing sloppy, visceral noises every time he pulled out, every time their bodies slapped together, every time her intestinal walls stretched. She could hear him spreading her, sliding inside of her, could feel the texture, shape, rigidity, and heat of his rapestick all the way inside of her, inch by brutal inch. But worst of all—

“This is the best! Fuck yeah! This is the best hole I’ve ever had! You put all the boys to shame, little elf,” Gudbrand said, mixing insults and praise. “I can’t believe you only use this hole to shit. What a waste! It’s the ultimate fuckhole!” The way it was coiling around him was sublime, so soft and tight and warm; he wanted to fill her up to the brim, so deep she couldn’t imagine anything ever reaching there. He loved how small and tiny she was, how easy she was to hold up, how great her deformed, bulging stomach looked on her skinny, flat body, several decades to go before it reached adulthood. Being so small made the massive cock thrust inside her all the more erotic, all the more appropriate, and by now it was evident she was not only a buttslut but also a size queen.

For as he was pushing inside of her, he was large enough to put pressure against her little infertile womb, her sensitive cervix. Having something so massive tear through her guts was painful, but she now realised it wasn’t just pain. There was something else in there, something pleasant, and it was utterly depraved and forbidden, too terrible to think of, but perhaps this was what she deserved. She had been a bad girl, and bad girls deserved to feel like that, to enjoy having monstrous penises forced inside them, inside their shitting holes, to enjoy having the place they poop from double as a sexual outlet. She had sinned, so he didn’t deserve normal, healthy, loving sex: this was all she was good for: an orc’s anal sex slave.

Troels had had enough of watching, his own arousal getting the best of him. He stood in front of her; though shorter than Gudbrand, he was still much larger than she was. Gudbrand let her go, holding her only by her hips and thighs, as Troels caught her front part, lowering her face to his groin. His genitals were exposed and disgusting in their own unique way, his penis moving around with far too much freedom, like a tentacle. Though still larger than most elves’, at least it wasn’t as huge as Gudbrand’s, for that thing would surely dislocate her jaw.

Not that it mattered any as he forced himself in her mouth. She had already changed her mind about his size, because if she’d suffered physical damage, at least her mind would be focused on her poor bones instead of how repugnant the taste and smell were. She didn’t think that orc had bathed, ever; the closest thing to it was back when he was still a fetus. His cock wormed its way into her mouth then down her throat, squirming around her oesophagus, triggering her gag reflex. They each held her on opposite ends, lifting her so far above ground her legs couldn’t reach it, having their way with both the entrance and the exit to her digestive tract in lieu of her sealed, useless reproductive one.

They fucked her as best they could, though their position was as impractical for them as it was for her. Gudbrand pistoned in and out of her arsehole, making her belly bulge out; Troels assaulted her mouth, inflating her little neck. Odilia couldn’t scream and complain any longer, the organ that once pleaded and insulted now reduced to another pleasure hole for the orcs. Her saliva was spilling out and hanging down like threads from her face, her cheeks already wet from all the crying she’d done. Yet her mind wandered to the heinous sensations on her rear, and how strangely satisfying having her anal ring spread so far felt, how having something so big in her shithole was a constant feeling of defecation.

Gudbrand groaned and thrust in her with more force than usual, and then she felt something hot and wet pouring inside of her. He was coming; this disgusting, hideous orc was filling her intestines with his seed, helplessly searching for a womb to impregnate, only to decompose in her bowels and provide nutrition for bacteria. His ejaculation was as oversized as he was, and he sprayed her with an almost uncomfortable amount of fluid, though it paled in comparison to the discomfort of his shaft itself.

When he was done, he let her go, her legs finally finding solid ground as they dropped. He sat down, exhaled, and yelled in satisfaction. “Ahhh, what a godlike arsepussy! I’ve never had anything quite like this.”

“About time you finished up,” Troels said, pulling Odilia off his cock. She coughed and inhaled, finally free of the wretched taste of his filthy cock. He wasted no time and pushed her back, face up, then took hold of her legs and stretched them straight, giving him a nice view of her anus. It was gaping and raw after what Gudbrand had done to it, trying its best to close down, but to no avail. A beautiful, red, and battered ring, granting access to her bright pink insides, her intestinal walls beautifully folding into themselves and lined with lubricants and semen.

The sight of his comrade’s ejaculate didn’t disgust Troels in the slightest. “Here I go!” he announced and shoved his filthy pig-cock inside her shitter, which welcomed him with zero resistance, nice and loose after her brutal sodomising. “Oh, this is amazing!” he said as his dick flailed around in random directions, poking at every corner of her rectum and colon, as if it was a massive tongue trying to scoop everything up. It produced wet, sticky sounds as his cock moved from one direction to another, mixing up the mess that had been created inside her bowels.

Troels pulled out, and coiled his cock in a spiral, reducing overall length, but producing a fatter, ridged member. When he pushed back in, her anus distended and tightened back for each rim created by the turns of his member along its axis—it was like being penetrated over and over again as he thrust.

“Ahhh!” she moaned, and this time there wasn’t just pain in her exclamation. Troels, even in his infinite idiocy, picked up on this, pulled out and back in again to test his theory, and was met with another, smaller moan from the clearly satisfied child.

“Wow! Did you hear that! I think we broke her!”

“I told you, she’s a fucking buttslut.”

“Let’s go!” He lowered his hands to the backside of her knees, lifting her butt up, so he could have a good angle on both her anus and her face as he fucked deflowered shitter. Every time he pulled out, her anus followed suit, stuck on his member, refusing to let him go, only returning to its position when he thrust in. She was trying to hide her flustered face, to silence her involuntary moans, but she was fooling no one; her virginal pussy was leaking arousal, and had made a mess around her groin and thighs.

“You dirty! Fucking! Whore!” Troels said to the rhythm of his thrusting, the wetness on her hips and thighs now adding to the slapping noises as he put all his strength into it. “Kiddy elves are the perfect fuckholes! The gods made you for our cocks; I’ll never fuck a cunt again!” Odilia was now covering her ears, because the more she heard the orcs’ taunts, the more she grew to believe them—perhaps she already believed them. Troels may have been smaller than Gudbrand, but perhaps this was worse; she realised she didn’t just feel good from the pressure against her womb, but from her anus and her bowels as well.

“Ha ha! You’re feeling good! I can tell! You’re feeling good from your shithole! You’re feeling good from your shithole!” Troels said, sang almost, a terrible, off-tune cacophony no amount of ear-plugging could block. He raped her arsehole, and her lack of resistance, her _welcoming_ of friction on her anus, her unrestrained moans, the arousal leaking from her cunny; yes, she was feeling good from her shithole. The hole she pooped from, the hole no girl ought to feel good from. This scum was making her feel good with his bestial, despicable penis, and she liked it. She liked it more than she would have liked a proper, healthy elven penis in her proper hole, she knew, and when she realised it—when she _truly_ realised it, and the feeling sank in—the last remnant of her sanity shattered, the last set of tears leaving her.

Now free of all reservations, Odilia allowed herself to have her depraved anal orgasm. Though she was only a small child, she’d already had her first sexual experience—through her butt. It was wrong, it was disgusting, and it felt _good_. Her forbidden rectal pleasure spread up through her guts to her entire body, her stomach, her head; it spread down to her legs and toes; it spread even to her cunt, as she lost control of her bladder and started peeing all over Troels and herself. Ah, she was urinating while she was having sex with her defecation hole, how twisted. The bedroom and the bathroom were one and the same for dirty girls like her.

“Holy shit, she’s pissed herself. That’s so hot,” Troels said, his own orgasm coming soon after. “I love this kiddy anal whore!” His ejaculation was less impressive than Gudbrand’s, but it still felt good having his seed coat her rectum. His penis untangled and he pulled out, her anus looking more bruised and abused than before. “Your arsehole’s ruined, sweetie. Makes me want to fuck you all over again.”

And so they did. One time was hardly enough to keep these orcs content; Gudbrand and Troels took turns pummelling her poor shitpipe, fucking it with everything they had. No matter how many times they climaxed, it was never enough, Odilia’s prepubescent eroticism lighting a fire in them that only grew stronger the more they abused her body. Time became a vague concept; there was only pleasure. Both for the orcs, and for the elf, who’d accepted her fate and was enjoying her anal violation.

At some point, Frans and Ragna returned, and they scolded the two men for giving up on work. Frans’ protests didn’t last very long, as he soon found himself eager to join in the fun. Odilia’s world became anal sex and cleaning up after the men had finished ploughing her shithole, tasting the mix of semen and her intestinal fluids. It was debasing beyond imagination, the most humiliating thing she’d ever experienced, enjoying the flavour of her own poop chute after it was done being used like a pussy. She’d lost count of how many anal orgasms she’d had. The orcs gave her no pause; as soon as one of them had finished coming inside of her, another took his place, so that she was constantly plugged up. Sometimes, for a few moments, they would pull out to appreciate her gaping hole leaking orgasm, and then they’d go back to it with redoubled zeal. The longer they kept at it, the more disgusting it sounded, the more disgusting it smelt, the more disgusting she tasted, the three orcs’ ejaculate indistinguishable from one another.

Eventually, someone pointed out that the sun had set.

“We should hand her over to the chief. Bet he’ll be real grateful for such a great butt,” Gudbrand suggested.

“I’ll take the reward and I’m gonna go raiding to catch me my own elven slut! Her shitter is addictive!” Frans said as he finished coming inside of her, then dropping her on the ground. She was so exhausted she didn’t even have the strength to moan.

“We should clean her up first.”

“Drop her in there and let’s go!” Frans picked her up and headed for the hot springs a few steps away. The chief would probably not appreciate a gift smelling like orcish sweat and come.

As the orcs did their best to rinse off the aftermath of their raping, they dreamt about how great it would be to have their own personal, devoted come dumpsters. A harem of pretty, young elven buttsluts, little children begging to have little children of their own knocked up inside of them. That was perhaps an orc’s ultimate goal in life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The excitement keeps inflating and so does Odilia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This deviates a bit from the prompt, but I had ideas™, plus I wanted to stuff it full of more problema-kinks, the best kinks.

Hjalmar wasn’t a believer in sex slaves, or rather this specific sex slave. Mostly because he thought it was just Gudbrand being a weirdo again; that fucker couldn’t get his hands off little children. It was getting creepy, even by orc standards. Sometimes it seemed like he had no interest whatsoever in his own kind or his own size. Hjalmar was never partial to his tastes, and didn’t think that was about to change, so he’d dismissed his predatory warrior when he’d come to him with a “gift.” But as the days went by and his insistence didn’t waver, Hjalmar gave in, if only to make him shut up. He planned to punish him if he was disappointed—and he very much planned to be. By now the sheer annoyance of having him around outweighed anything he brought to the table, and he’d love nothing more than severing his head from his shoulders.

It didn’t take very long for his plans to change.

The moment he laid eyes on her, he knew how off the mark his prejudice had been. For once in his life, Gudbrand hadn’t exaggerated the qualities of a girl. Her large, emerald eyes were attention magnets even from across the room, rendered all the more enchanting by her soft, childish features, her perfect symmetry, her free, long, blond hair, her skinny body peaking through her scandalous “dress”… He’d never thought he’d feel that way for a child. Her skin was far too pale, she had no breasts or hips, she was far too short, and her face was closer to a baby than a grown woman, but… But the way his cock twitched, the way time slowed down to a crawl, the way his heart beat were undeniable.

He was one of the handful of orcs living in remotely sensible conditions: his home was more house than hut, and though untidy, it was clean enough; no warg manure or orc urine anywhere to be found. It was decorated with equipment, raid loot, the occasional bone from slain beasts or enemies. The same beasts whose stacks of fur doubled as carpets and bedding, no doubt. He didn’t live quite like a civilised man, but it wasn’t squalor more fit for a monkey.

Even stripped of her traditional attire, she looked far too clean and regal for this rustic environment. She didn’t belong there, a tiny elf kid among these rapists and barbarians. Her non-dress was little more than a thin veil draped over her unnubile body, barely covering her sensitive parts, but just translucent enough for her skin and shape to shine through. She was soaked in some sort of liquid or lotion, and it made the cloth adhere to her body, so that her nipples formed little indentations on her chest through the fabric, so that he could almost make out the crease of her tiny, hairless, perfect vulva… Lighted by fire and the late evening sun, she was magical; he wanted to jump on her and eat her alive.

“Great Hjalmar, are you, too, interested in children?” she asked. The way she was looking at him, that wasn’t the expression of a half-hearted victim. She was teasing him. She was teasing _him_.

 _Great_ wasn’t mere appellation for Hjalmar; it was very literal. He was undoubtedly the most massive of the orcs, and it was little surprise that he was the leader of this bunch. Displays of strength were how one got ahead in orcish groups, and regardless of experience, skill, or speed, more muscle mass was the paramount variable in a brawl. He wasn’t a total musclehead; Troels was by far the dumbest one. Ironically, he was the least malformed orc she’d seen so far. If she squinted and used a boatload of booze and imagination, he might actually look vaguely like a person. Perhaps it was his beard that helped cover the lower half of his face.

Not to understate how _inhuman_ he was. His skin was the same characteristic, rough brown as the other orcs, a combination of skin tone, keratinisation from excessive hardships, and fur. His was interrupted by the occasional pinkish scar, especially around his chest and upper arms; he was no stranger to warfare. He was monstrous at 8 feet tall, well beyond anyone else in his command, or any man Odilia had known. He wasn’t just tall, though, but _wide_ —an elf at that height would look like a stick and would have trouble keeping his bones intact. His shoulders, his chest, and his limbs were enormous, bone and flesh both. His muscles were even more impressive considering he was obese; his belly was quite large, not to the point where it interfered with daily life, but nonetheless very noticeable.

She wondered how big he was elsewhere.

He walked towards her quickly, almost a response to her previous teasing. She was lying down, her best effort at a seductive pose, comically smaller than him. Even if she stood straight up, he’d still be twice her height, a few times her width, and she didn’t dare think about his weight. It would feel so good when he was on top of her, pressing down on her, stealing her breath, so close to turning her bones to dust. She was powerless before him—he could do whatever he wanted to her with the snap of his fingers—and her surrender was so exciting.

He knelt down and he kissed her.

His face was human enough for a kiss to be possible. Even so, he was larger in every body part, and his tongue had trouble fitting inside her tiny mouth. Her jaw hurt because of how much she had to open it to welcome him, but once she did, the sensation was all-encompassing, like he was kissing every part of her all at once. He was dripping saliva all over her, an unnerving amount, coating her face and chest with it as it trickled and dripped. He tasted salty and dirty, just as she liked, and she drank his spit with perverse jubilation.

The same perverse jubilation he felt as he lowered himself to creepy Gudbrand’s level, locking his lips with a prepubescent child, a supposedly presexual nymphette somehow exuding a commanding eroticism. She was so sweet, and tiny, and warm, like the tiniest of cherries, the thought of crunching it in his mouth almost as exhilarating it as doing it for real and savouring its unripe sourness. He raised his hands to her head, large enough his grip could reach around it with ease, pressing down on her skull, thrusting his fingers through her soft hair, softer than anything he’d ever touched. She smelled of flowers. She was beautiful.

When he broke the kiss, she looked up to him all flustered and wet, her mouth half open, strings of saliva adhering to her chin and lips, connecting them. She was breathing heavily, and her eyes were on him, and beyond him, unfocused from the sensations.

“I like _this_ child,” he said.

“What a paedophile. Are all orcs like that?” She did have an attitude, as expected of an elf, but it had its charm. She knew what he could do to her, but she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, wasn’t afraid to take it too far and be punished. Perhaps she welcomed the punishment. Her character was a catalyst for her allure.

“You turned me into one. And if you hadn’t, might as well not be an orc.” He stroked her cheek, them moved his hand lower, to her neck, her shoulder, her nipple. He brought his thumb and index finger together and pinched through the fabric. Odilia closed her eyes momentarily, wincing, a little pain promising far more pleasure. She was completely, perfectly flat. Even orcish women, notorious as they were, weren’t so lacking in chest fat, but somehow this made her more attractive, more of a perfect girl. He was beginning to think like Gudbrand, and the worst thing was that he welcomed the change.

“I like it when they’re perverted.” Her voice was silent as a whisper, but so full of tease and desire, it bellowed through the room, silencing everything else. Her taunts had a musicality, her words perfectly selected like the verses to a poem. A smart, flirtatious little elf, her head grown beyond her years. Soon, her belly would grow to match her spirit.

He lowered his hand to between her thighs. The symbol of her protective charm shone as it was pressed against; even through the fabric, he couldn’t feel her, but he _could_ feel the warmth and the wetness that she had left on it. “So it is true, after all. Your pussy is sealed.”

“A blessing in disguise,” she said.

_Oh, gods._

He’d known about her. He’d _known_. But to have her in front of him, all but spelling out how much of a buttslut she’d been reduced to, so much that she was glad she couldn’t have vaginal sex, did something maddening to him, inspired some sort of obsessive lust. He hadn’t desired someone so much since his brief venture into adolescence, when sexual conquests were new and exciting to him. Or perhaps his first raid, eager to prove himself and leave his mark into history. These memories were faint now, and perhaps he would have forgotten ever having them if Odilia had never been brought into his life. He needed to have her. He needed to have her, just for himself, and only himself, and he needed to fuck her until he tore her apart.

He undressed himself. He didn’t know when he’d last done it so fast. His cock felt caged in his clothes, but removing them didn’t feel better; it hadn’t been the clothes, he realised, but the craving. He sat in front of Odilia, lifted her up by her butt, and brought her closer to his lap. Her eyes darted to his genitals immediately, unable to hide her own excitement. Of all the monstrosities she’d seen to date, his was the most inhuman. His penis was filled with some projections, like villi, about a fifth of an inch thick, smooth and with a rounded end. Their concentration was very high, and his full length was lined with them. There were no other identifiable characteristics; just a long, large, villous rod.

And just like the rest of his body, it was oversized. She lay an experimental hand on it, testing it for temperature and size. She noticed the villi were excreting something—lubricants, sweat, something—and her nose noticed it soon after. It was 5 inches across, and over a foot long; it reached up to her chest and nipples. She thought she’d got used to big cocks, but this was just… so huge. She was a tiny, 4 feet tall skinny girl; his member alone was half as wide as she was. If he put something so big inside of her, she would… she would…

She would feel amazing.

He reached around the fabric and squeezed her bare buttocks with his large, rough hands. Pinched, more like, because just one palm was so large she could use it as a chair. Though it was undeveloped, he was beginning to like it, perhaps even prefer it that way. It emphasised how small and young she was, how wrong it was to like her, how pure of a child she was supposed to be. He extended a middle finger between her buttocks and found her sensual core, her baby anus, the hole he desired. Her puckered flesh had given way to glistening, soft skin from repeated use, transforming into a proper fuckhole in place of her vagina. Preferable to her vagina.

She closed her eyes and exhaled as he entered her. She used her own hands on his cock, stroking his strange length. She couldn’t wrap them around it, but she could still massage it, feel it, imagine how great it would be inside her. Hjalmar’s fingers gave her a good stretching; one of his was like several of hers, and his thumb was about the size of her wrist. He could bring her to completion without ever touching her with his cock, and she wouldn’t feel unsatisfied or insufficiently filled. But the powerful, unclean musk coming out of his manhood was intoxicating; it overwhelmed her senses and made her dizzy.

“You’re beautiful. You’re the perfect girl,” he said, his voice low and affectionate. She could feel it rumbling through her ribs, intimate and arousing. “Little girls should be stretched.” He added another finger, and she produced a yelp.

“D-do you think it’ll fit?”

“I’ll make it fit.” Her anus and rectum twitched to the sound of those words, reacting to the promise he made. “Your butthole is looking forward to it.”

“I want… I want you, all the way…”

He lay her down, her lower back resting on his thighs, the rest of her on the floor. He raised her legs to his chest, his penis sandwiched between her thighs, caressing her lower body limbs, enjoying how small and fragile and smooth they were. Save for her head, she was hairless. Her little toes moved and jerked as his hands came near them; they were too cute. He bent down and licked her tiny soles, her even tinier toes. She moaned, enjoying his large, surprisingly soft tongue on her feet; these, too, had become sex organs. Once he had finished with one of them, he moved on to the other, holding and massaging what he left behind with his thumb.

“What sort of pervert… would get off to a little girl’s feet?” she said amid deep breaths.

“If you minded it, you wouldn’t get off with your feet yourself. You’re a dirty elf kid, for dirty orc paedos.”

Once he was done getting his fill of her lower extremities, he lifted her butt, lining it up with his cock. Just from the look of it, the insertion had to be impossible. There was no way her tiny, infantile anus could stretch to welcome his grotesque meat. The impossibility made it more erotic, feeding into his dark desire to break her, to see her skinny form change shape and bloat. The smaller she was, the more he wanted to brutally rape her.

He pushed forward. She resisted, and it didn’t seem like it was ever going to happen. He used more strength, his grip on her hips remorseless, easily manhandling little Odilia. Then she spread, and she screamed. With pain, with excitement, with pleasure, who could know? Her emotions mixed and blurred, a drunken haze of events too extreme for her mind to handle. Her body was long past maintaining a healthy state for its own sake; she was an anal fleshlight for Hjalmar. Barely a couple inches in, and her rectum was already full, stretched so far she swore it couple rupture. She held on for life, clutching her fingers around his, the most secure thing she could find.

He thought it was adorable. She was clinging onto him as if he was her daddy. He wondered if her real daddy was plagued by the same lust to anally defile her. He wondered if he’d pulled through with it.

She knew now what the use for villi was; he was lubricating her. He marched on, exploring more and more of her colon, invading her intestines, over 15 inches of girth giving her a new understanding for _stretched out_. She closed her eyes and clenched her teeth as Hjalmar pushed deeper inside of her, his excretions mixing with hers along the way. She was painfully tight and wonderfully soft; she was so warm it matched the fire in his heart. Scarcely a few minutes had passed and he was already in love with her arsehole; if anything, Gudbrand had understated it.

As he got deeper inside of her, her deformation became more extreme. At first, an indentation near her navel. Then a noticeable outgrowth all over her abdomen. Soon, his cylindrical shape bulged out of her almost tree inches like a corrupt pregnancy, past her navel and belly and up to her chest, a tumour of defloration gone too far. She was shaking, her whole body had spasms, an intense orgasm overtaking her. Something wet was on his groin; looking down, she was pissing herself. The poor thing, she should have emptied her bladder before coming to him. He was large enough to be pressing against it, and her cervix, too.

Too bad for that dress, though; he’d have it washed later. Her abdominal bulge looked so good through it, like it was woven with decorating the shape of his cock as seen through her flesh in mind. It was a wonderful garment, and he didn’t mind whichever nosy traitor it had been who’d rummaged through the raid loot to find it. It looked better on her than anything else they could do with it. He could watch it inflate and deflate along with her belly for hours.

By the time Odilia had regained her senses, Hjalmar was balls deep inside of her. She ran her hands over her abdominal deformation, caressing the protrusion with religious fervour. “Ah, my body… My body’s taken the shape of your cock!”

“I told you I’d do it.”

“My butt is so full. You’ll break my butt! You’ll— Please break my butt!” She rubbed her feet on his chest, for that was the only part of her that could reach him, patting him with her soles. “I want my butt to take your shape and never lose it.”

“I’ll ruin your arse for life.” He thrust in and out, a small motion to serve as emphasis.

“Ah!”

“I’ll turn you into my personal arsepussy. You’ll forget you ever used your arsehole to shit.” A larger motion now, a couple of inches of movement. “Your bowels will only exist for my sexual pleasure.”

“Do it. Show me how much you love the hole I poop from. Even though it’s dirty— Because it is dirty.”

Hjalmar adjusted his grip and leaned in closer to her. She spread her legs wide, and since he was too large for her to lock them behind his back, she just left them hanging on either side of his fat belly. He pulled out as far as he could, dragging her bowels along with him, her intestinal walls clinging so tightly on his member that her rectum prolapsed, the last part of his cock covered in a bright red sock. He pushed back inside in one smooth, slow motion, and this time she could appreciate how his penile villi rubbed against her anus, against her insides. The texture, the subtle bumps, oh, it was wonderful, and it made her shiver.

He leaned even closer to her and he licked her face. Not kissed, _licked_ , his large tongue covering much of her and coating her with fluids. “You taste wonderful.” He thrust once more. “You feel wonderful. Your arse is a natural wonder.”

“Fuck me harder,” she said, wrapping her arms around his head now that he was close enough to do it.

He’d fuck her hard enough to make up for all the children he hadn’t fucked, for every time he thrust inside a cunt instead of an arsehole. He pressed down even more, resting his weight on her, and starting to pump like he really meant it. He could feel her belly changing shape as he got inside her, as he filled her with a foot of orcish meat, a deformation from her hips up to her chest, perfectly suited for the flat, undeveloped child. He fucked her as she moaned. He fucked her as she tried to catch her breath. He fucked her as he licked her tears and sweat.

Every time he pulled out, so did her arsehole. It sounded magnificent, how her bowels stretched, how air left her as the air gap changed, how their bodies slapped together, how strings of lubricant and intestinal fluids hung between them and connected their groins, even when they were apart. Her warm cavern welcomed him with a passion, and her warm body exuded a fine flavour and rectal smell as if to mark him. She squirted every now and then; fluids from her virginal cunny, urine, it mattered not. She had constant orgasms, one after the other, her intestinal tract several unending feet of unadulterated pleasure.

He could feel her insides twitch, like they were trying to milk him. He loved how tiny and weak she was, he loved how she was trapped under him. He was several times her size, and his hands were moving up and down her back, feeling the fabric, feeling her little spinal column, feeling her little body. It was criminal how young she was, especially by orc standards, but she was so sublime and beautiful. He never wanted to leave her. He wanted to be stuck inside her arsehole until the end of time, pumping her full of his seed.

He kissed her and he came. Every villus of his shaft squirted semen of its own, though more intensely near the top. He didn’t stop thrusting as he came, and he didn’t stop coming for some time. His balls kept producing more semen to fill her up, almost a litre by the end of it, though that wasn’t the end of it. Even though he’d just had an orgasm, he was still hard as a rock and very sensitive, and he kept fucking her in that state, her warmth and tightness and wetness, her silky smooth shitpipe all the more pronounced.

“You’ll get my butt pregnant!” she said.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Shitting babies instead of turds? Though your cunt is right there?”

She knew he was teasing her, but the thought of it was deliciously perverse. “Yes, yes, I would!”

Their anal coupling lasted until the morning, and when they were fully sated, her arse not only couldn’t close, it couldn’t even stay inside of her body. Hjalmar took the protruding red flesh in his hand and squeezed, milking the liquid mess out, and bending her in such a way as to pour it directly into her mouth. Her expression as she drunk that sickening mix was utter satisfaction. She was exalted to discover a new way to debase herself for him.

He held her in his arms and told her about how great she was until she fell asleep. Somehow, his praise made her feel like the happiest girl alive. Every moment before paled in comparison. She couldn’t remember what life had been like before she became an anal addict.

* * *

Hjalmar spent the next morning cleaning Odilia. Her “dress” was first, as it would take the longest to dry. She came after, and he made sure to give her his personal attention, so that not an inch of her was unwashed. He put extra focus on certain parts, capitalising on the opportunity to feel her and grope her. His large, rough hands felt great on her; he was especially enamoured by her flat chest, it seemed. In a way, it was symbolic of everything he liked about her: her youth, her small size, her cuteness. He rubbed her for a long, long time.

Her chest was wasn’t the only part that received special attention. He also made sure he’d cleaned her butt, still showing signs of abuse from last night. She’d already leaked out most of it, but he wanted to be absolutely certain, so after he’d fondled her tight buns to satisfaction, he spread them wide and cleaned up her insides as well, with his tongue. It was so large and long, it filled up her entire rectum and then some, but after last night’s bulging, she had no trouble accepting him. He kept at it for at least half an hour, greatly enjoying the flavour of her shithole and the way her sphincters coiled around his tongue. He wormed around inside of her, pouring wet warmth and draining some for himself. It was like a big oral tentacle, and it felt wonderful. Four anal orgasms later, and she was completely spent and very clean indeed.

After wiping her, he sat on her on his lap and held her close. Their size difference made it very enjoyable to leach warmth off of him; she felt desired and secured. He ran his fingers through her hair, untangling it and showering her with comments about how cute and beautiful she was, about how every part of her was soft and erotic, how he could sleep content sexualising any part of her, even if all he had to go with were her feet, her armpits, or her hair. He talked about how much he liked her as he braided her hair and she relaxed on his lap. In that moment, she felt so comfortable and serene.

Odilia was surprised by how good he was at braiding, but then she realised many orcs braided their hair, albeit for different purposes. This was pure aesthetics; a crown braid to make her look cuter. The way he was touching her and looking after her made her slowly realise that perhaps his affections ran deeper; she wasn’t just a tight hole for him to fuck. He liked holding her and taking care of her, like some misplaced, malformed paternal instinct. She was a little kid, after all.

Later that day, she found that there was a reason for all this grooming. They were to travel to an orc shaman. She didn’t know why, and wasn’t her place to ask. He lived in a cave deep into a mountain; it was the most intricate orcish structure she’d seen yet, and almost every corner of it was decorated with markings, items, or chiselled surfaces. It was obvious it was a very important place for the orcs, and many of the things were tributes donated by the many clans. Others were the fruits of the orcs’ own labour.

Shamen were the orcs’ equivalent to sorcerers, though also carrying out religious duties. Orcs weren’t known for their magical prowess, and orcish magic mostly revolved around making a warrior’s job easier or day-to-day tasks; in fact, most shamen were warriors themselves, and magic was but an extension of the path of the warrior. In some ways, this was the inverse of how elven society was organised. She found it funny how many of these symmetries she discovered.

The men did not speak any language she understood. She busied herself by looking at the objects and scribbles on the walls under the torchlight. They, too, meant very little to her. After Hjalmar had finished paying his respects, he explained what they were about to do to her. When she heard about it, she thought it was joke. She instinctively drew back from the idea, disturbing her even after all she’d experienced. She drove that instinct back, and found a perverse appeal taking its place instead, for it meant she could become even more of a debauched anal whore for Hjalmar. And for herself.

After a few minutes on an altar and a short ceremony, she lifted her legs up and presented her anus to the orcs in the room. The shaman held up a glass container full of long, thin worm-like creatures swimming in some fluid—they were about a tenth of an inch in diameter. He turned it upside down, placing its mouth inside her anus, and poured it inside her. It was cold, and the sensation of having these things swim around in her intestines was awkward and wrong. Her hole was plugged up to prevent them from slithering out, or being smashed by an overexcited orc’s huge cock for that matter.

In fact, the creatures were closer to overgrown parasites than worms. She didn’t know if the orcs made them, discovered them, or some mix of both, but their purpose was taking the degradation of prisoners to the logical extreme, by making them bear the children of their orcish captors. The parasites would take control of the host’s intestinal tract and remodel it for child-bearing, feeding off the host’s excrement for their own sustenance, and “graciously” donating some of it to the fetus. It had only ever been used on males, but, well, she was a special case.

She could feel them rearrange her insides mere hours after the fact. She knew the constant anal raping had changed her body, but this was above and beyond everything she imagined. She wondered how such a thing was even possible, physically speaking. How could these things be fertilised with orcish seed, but nothing else? Could it be that they bore the same essence as a female orc? That somewhere in their lineage they had been an orc’s ovum?

That was…

She thought about how her barren womb hadn’t even experienced menarche yet. Despite that, despite her age, despite her species, her intestines were being remodelled to carry baby orcs. In some sense her arsehole would be more adult than her cunt was. The more she thought about it, the more she realised how utterly degrading and unnatural it was, that she was having the most visceral functions of her body changed to the polar opposite of what they ought to be, all to fulfil the orcs’ dark desires.

Was there a limit how far she could fall from grace? Would she even be an elf by the time they were done with her? It made her stomach churn. It was disgusting.

_It was hot._

* * *

The feeling of something small and wet on his cock lulled him from a deep slumber. He opened his eyes and looked down; he was greeted by Odilia’s blond hair and large, childish eyes. She didn’t say anything; her expression told him to lay back, relax, and let her take care of everything. Her small hands were on his massive, semi-erect cock, her small tongue on his tip. She licked, finding the villi just as pleasurable in her mouth as in her butt. She was plugged up from both sides now, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any ways to serve.

His massive organ wouldn’t fit in her mouth no matter how much magic they performed on her, so all she could do was lick and squeeze and stroke. She moved her tongue around his tip and tried to cover as much of it as she could; she moved her little hands up and down and caressed his length, his girth so extreme she couldn’t wrap her hands around it. Like that, it was clear how much different their bodies were, how extreme their size difference. That monster rising from his groin was thicker than her thigh, and it had been inside her prepubescent body; he’d fucked her until his hips were sore. He loved her cause she was tiny. She loved how he loved her.

Odilia went lower, licking more of his shaft. The villi moved to the touch as if they had minds of their own, as if they were tiny, microscopic penises in their own right. She tasted their lubricating excretions directly, a strong, salty musk, perhaps Hjalmar’s kind of precome. He looked and functioned nothing like any elf did, and she’d grown to like it; the more exotic and monstrous the genitalia, the more arousing it was for her. She knew she was a dirty, unabashed child whore; she knew she was a buttslut, always had been a buttslut, and she deserved to be degraded and hated, to mate with things that weren’t her kind, to mate with beasts and abominations, because that was all she was good for.

She also loved the praise he showered her with even as she degraded herself. “I love your mouth. Your tongue is so cute, and small, and soft…” He mumbled things like that as she worked on him, and every time he did, something would stir up inside of her. Her anus would twitch around her buttplug, her virginal, untouched vagina would drip arousal, the worms inside her guts would act up as they rearranged and transformed her. This horrible, unnatural love had always been her fate. No, even that was too good for her. She was exalted that he liked her that much. It was by his grace alone that she was still alive, that she hadn’t become a medium-rare steak, his unripe little dinner.

Lower still, his testicles. Large and surprisingly soft, larger than apples, and full of tasty paedophile semen longing to be in her arsehole. The more she’d been with these orcs, the more she hated her own upbringing. What was the point of living over a century in chastity? Obviously the reason elves took as long as they did to mature was so that their tight bodies could be enjoyed while they were still young. Her parents and friends were a sad bunch for damning her to a life in asexuality, when clearly the right place for her was on top of an adult’s cock, impaled until she couldn’t think straight. They shouldn’t have even waited for her to be as old as she was now; they should have welcomed her into this world with a shower of ejaculate.

Hjalmar began coming, every villus on his shaft springing forth a bit of semen, more as they neared his tip. She tried to swallow as much as she could, but his anatomy was such that most of it was spilled on her. Perhaps for the better, because the hot and sticky fluid felt great on her. There was so much of it, a full litre of comeshots, and she was completely drenched. His sperm was everywhere on her, like he’d been trying to impregnate her skin. The smell assaulted her nostrils; she smelled like Hjalmar now. She licked as much of it as she could from her arms and fingers, then scooped up more of it and repeated the process. She made sure to gulp it down as slowly and suggestively as she could, where he could clearly see, and his eyes were transfixed on her.

“It’s not over yet. Don’t you have something to help me wash it down?” she asked, and he knew immediately what she wanted. She got on her knees, sitting on her legs like an obedient pet, and looked up at him like a member of the congregation looked up to her God. The massive, erect phallus she worshipped was over her, and it produced the nectar she desired, urinating on her. There was too much of even his piss. The orc chieftain’s urine was hot, vulgar, and nauseating. Her little body began trembling in orgasm as she thought of how much she loved being his toilet.

He used her as a repository for his bodily fluids as he told her she was a good girl. That she was the best girl. That she’d be his only girl, that other orcs’ cunts were dead to him, that her intestines were the only place fit to carry his spawn, his beautiful shit-babies. She was honoured to be of service.

* * *

This time, it was Hjalmar who found Odilia sleeping. Perhaps it was rude for the servant to sleep before her master, but the transformation of her anal canal was very tough for the little girl, so he could at least afford her the gift of rest. No, even if that hadn’t been the case, he had no problem with it, because she’d been a good girl, and good girls deserve privileges. Besides, she looked so defenceless as she was sleeping. Hjalmar had never understood why humans had pets; to orcs, all kittens and puppies were good for was soup meat. Now, looking at the minuscule, skinny little girl sleeping naked on the bed, he’d changed his mind. She was cute and perfect and perfectly cute; her small breathing was barely audible, and the way her chest moved as she lay on her left side was captivating. He could see the skin move over her ribcage, could see these sublime concavities and convexities borne of the balance of skin, muscle, fat, and bone, could see them curve around behind her, like the branches of a tree.

He lied down next to her and tasted her; could not resist tasting her. He started from the middle of her back and went up. Her little spine, almost splitting her in half, was a fascinating thing, its subtle bumps and cavities massaging his tongue. Odilia woke up, raising her arms to stretch herself, her breathing out sounding almost like a purr. He caught an exposed armpit before should could lower her arm back down, tasting her sweat, her hairless youth. It was a strange thing to be attracted to, but she didn’t push him back or otherwise protest; if anything, she welcomed his assault, the sexualisation of her otherwise asexual place. It was strangely intimate feeling his tongue on her underarm.

Once he’d had his fill of her sweat, her moved back down her spine, stopping for a moment to appreciate the pair of dimples just above her butt crack, only visible because of her exquisite physique. He licked them, as well as the very parting of her butt, teasing her with the promise of anal stimulus. They couldn’t go at it, not yet, or they’d have to repeat the ritual, but the mere potential of having her intestines violated by his gigantic, footlong cock was enough to send her heart racing. If she could, she’d be constantly impaled on it, warming his terrible orcish cock.

His hands were on her chest and sides as his tongue worked, feeling her soft flatness, interrupted by her ribcage. He ran his fingers on her, rolling them around, experiencing her from all directions. They were large, rough, and possessed by a maddening desire for her lithe body.

“Do you like how I taste?” she asked.

“You cleanse my palate. The taste of a virgin.” Hjalmar loved whores, and he loved virgins; Odilia was the ultimate combination of both. No matter what he did to her, no matter how rough the fucking, no matter how depraved the acts, she would always remain a spotless, untouched virgin. She’d had more than a mile of cock thrust inside of her by now, but her hymen was intact, and her kiddie womb was barren with prepubescence. He hadn’t realised just how incredible that was, how much zeal it filled him with. Every time he laid his eyes on her, his body called to him to deflower her, to ruin that beautiful thing, too beautiful to exist, too tasty not to be eaten, but the same power that made her so attractive made her defloration impossible. A bottomless well of desire, a positive feedback loop.

Licking down her hips, her thighs, the backside of her knee, her calf, her heel, her foot, it would be clear to anyone that Hjalmar’s sexuality was now revolving around Odilia. The powerful orc had claimed many women, but they might as well not exist compared to her. He loved her so much, even parts of her that should be disgusting were arousing. If anything, the more disgusting and far removed from normal sexuality they were, the more arousing they became to his—their—eyes. He massaged the balls of her feet, he licked her soles, he licked her toes and between her toes. She was so absurdly clean and pure—but then again, he did bathe her regularly after he was done dirtying her. No matter how much he covered her with his filth, she ended up more pristine for it, like her very biology feasted on disorder and transmuted it into finesse.

She turned around to lie her back. She raised her feet to his chest and slowly, agonisingly, seductively made her way down his bloated belly to his groin and the base of his erect cock. “It’s got this big just by licking a little kid,” she said, as she teased its underside with her toes. Fatter than her limbs, it made clear how large it was, how much it deserved to be inside her and to stretch her out until she wouldn’t go back. It pulsated, the villi leaking lubricants and precome on her. “I’m stepping on it, and it isn’t going down. Do you like being stepped on? Do you see feet as sex organs?”

“Your outsides are a better cunt than everyone else’s insides.”

“Is that so? Now, then,” she raised her feet to the tip of his cock, pressing her soles flat on either side of it, sandwiching it, “why don’t you use this foot-pussy you speak so highly of?”

He placed his own hands on her feet, securing them in place, and thrust forward; the soft flesh of her feet progressing through his length down to his base, villi occasionally getting caught up between her toes. Back up again, slowly and pleasurably; he let out a satisfied moan, surprised to find his voice wasn’t alone. Odilia, the depraved whore that she was, was finding this act enjoyable as well, liking the warmth of his shaft, its girth, its length, the texture of it, though her feet were as far away from her cunt as anything could be. Though perhaps expecting normalcy out of a girl who’d begged for that same shaft to be forced into her arsehole, who’d even been working towards bearing children with her arsehole, was the truly surprising thought.

All too happy to discover their degeneracy was mutual, he fucked her, if such a thing could be called fucking. But if it wasn’t, what could be? She definitely surpassed Ragna’s deformed holes, even when he was using none of hers. Indeed, as he pumped, as his pace and his arousal increased, he thought that he’d be content even if this was the only for them to fuck. She was petite, and so soft she made velvet feel like sandpaper, and every part of her was superb; not a birthmark, not an injury, not an asymmetry, not an imperfection to be seen anywhere. How could her feet not be sex organs if her entire existence was a sex organ? She was the goddess of lust, and he had become her most ardent follower.

He came on her, all over her, coating her with his ample milk as he had before. He did not stop; he hadn’t had enough of her body that night. He fucked her “foot-pussy” several times; he fucked her knees and thighs; he fucked her armpits and hands; he fucked every part of her, until every fraction of her skin had brought him to orgasm, until she could barely stay awake after the pleasure she’d felt from having every part of her body despoiled, save for the single hole that nature had meant to be fucked. The worms slithered in her bowels, as if trying to say _Soon_.


	3. Chapter 3

Hjalmar was fucking Ragna.

For how long they’d been together, they’d yet to produce spawn. _Long_ was a matter of dispute when it came to orcs, but when one lived as little as they did, there was no time to waste. Each had less than a decade to look forward to after birth, and some of that was crippled by early childhood and old age. But no matter how well she did as a hunter and a warrior, Ragna would never be able to beat Hjalmar, because he wasn’t that much older, and by the time he was frail enough, she’d barely have any life in her left. But if she was his mate, she could be the second best, and perhaps, one day, her own children could do what she couldn’t. Blood, too, was selfish.

Everything had been going smoothly, until Hjalmar found himself busy. At first, the elf was an endearing distraction, something she could understand; she was no stranger to indulging herself. She didn’t understand why he wanted to stick his dick in her instead of serve her with a bunch of onions and legumes, but perhaps men were like that. Ironically she didn’t find her youth any less comprehensible, for she thought the little ones tasted the best too, and if given the opportunity she always preferred them. If anything, other orcs shying away from them was the weird thing. Maybe now the two of them had more in common.

That was why Hjalmar was fucking Ragna.

She didn’t have the time to wait for his obsession to pass. She had some understanding, yes, but even her fascination knew its limits, and the bodies of little kids weren’t the only things she ate. That was the path Hjalmar was going down, and while she could ignore how much it deviated from normal orcish sexuality—if ever there was any such thing—she couldn’t ignore how much it derailed her own life plans. Hjalmar, like all addicts, was eager to prove he was still in control, though only after a non-negligible bit of nagging.

He wasn’t in anything remotely resembling control. They were fucking, and Ragna was having a good time, but that was only because of his size. By all accounts, Ragna was a loose woman, but regardless of how practised she was, there were limits to what she could take easily; that was basic anatomy. An encounter with Hjalmar was impossible _not_ to be exciting, but to him, being with her was bland an uninspiring, so much that at some points he thought he’d be unable to maintain his erection.

She tried her best to stir his interest. She was as foul-mouthed and violent as ever. At any point before that, he’d love that; he loved whores. He also loved virgins, and normally he’d have to choose between them; the beautiful flowers who knew nothing of sex, and the women with experience. For the first time in his life, perhaps for the first time in orcish history, he could have both, and he was finding it impossible to compromise with anything less now.

Her scatologies that once filled him with passion were now grating on his ears; her moans more so, for they were hoarse and uncute. Odilia’s were like the finest singer’s, even when she was screaming uncontrollably. Her strength and willingness to take him roughly were only reminders of Odilia’s lithe body and how much better her grotesque deformation looked because of it. As for her cunt, well, he might as well be fucking a warg. For Hjalmar, _this_ sexuality was abnormal.

She was face down now, the pressure and her orgasms finally putting a pause on her talking and her staring, focused more on her own pleasure. He stopped looking down on her and tried to think of how much better Odilia would look in that position, how much better his cock would feel surrounded by her prepubescent intestines, her perfect shitter that was built for his monstercock. The thought of being with the elven child was more arousing than the reality of fucking Ragna.

Odilia was in the corner of his eye, and she had caught onto his antics. Infinitely gracious, she worked to make his fantasies more corporeal, unleashing all of her seduction as she posed on his bed. If Ragna had noticed him averting his gaze, she did not show it, but likely she wasn’t paying any attention. Odilia was wearing that same dress as when they’d first met, but it was further decorated now with jewellery; on her neck, on her wrists, and on her ankles, an assortment of golden rings and chains shining slightly less than she did, guiding his eyes to all the places he’d fucked her.

She played into it by tracing her hands over her body. Her face, and her lips, having kissed him countless of times now. Her flat chest, her coat of preadolescent arms, signalling to everyone her sinful sexuality, many decades old yet still trapped in that paradoxically young body, more sensual than the most experienced harlot in spite of her size—because of her size. She even showed off her soft, hairless armpits to him, embracing every part of her body becoming an outlet for his perversions. Lower still, on her long, slender legs, her little feet that he’d fucked, her little calves that he’d fucked, her little thighs that he’d fucked, raising them to her face, bending backwards to reveal her majestic sex organ, so desirable it drove men to madness, and yet plugged up.

She pushed.

Hjalmar hadn’t realised how hard he’d been fucking Ragna, but he did notice when her pleasured screams threatened to burst his eardrums. She’d collapsed on the floor and barely hung onto life when Odilia pushed the large buttplug out of her intestines using nothing but her trained sphincters for pressure. When a good half of it was out, the rest fell under its own weight, thudding and rolling on the floor, completely soaked with her intestinal fluids and bringing a few worms out with it. Her gaping, pink shitter winked at him from a distance, calling out to him, telling him that at last, after all those days, she was ready.

He paid Ragna no mind and stormed towards Odilia. He locked his lips with hers as soon as he was within touching distance, and the kiss was mad with desire and anticipation, his tongue filling her up to the brim, a pleasant ache. All this time that he’d been fucking his orc mate’s hole, he hadn’t come, hadn’t even been close to coming, but kissing her, tasting her saliva, making her taste his, that might actually be enough to satisfy him, if he kept at it long enough.

“My arsepussy is complete, master. It’s fertile.” She lowered her hands to his villous cock and stroked it. “I’d like some dirty shit-babies inside me.”

He bobbed his hips back and forth. “Make it ready.”

She raised the hem her “dress”, exposing her pussy, as he knelt so that she could be above him, and she let go, peeing on his cock. Even being a girl, his dick was such a gigantic target that she had no trouble finding the mark, and so she lubricated him with her own piss. Her altered arsehole was more that wet enough already, but knowing that he’d be fucking her coated in her own piss added a little extra dirtiness, one more sin in their thoroughly depraved act. Her piss tricked down on him, between his villi, a litany of tiny rivers surrounding him with her wet warmth.

When she was done, she turned around and pressed her back on him. “I’m a bad pet who peed on her owner. What do you do to bad pets?”

After seeing Ragna, maybe that had awakened Odilia’s competitive spirit. She wanted to show her what rough sex looked like when Hjalmar was actually into it. He chuckled. He had nothing against Ragna, but the woman did have a very big idea of herself, perhaps too big. Perhaps there was value in teaching her what the hierarchy in his home looked like, and if not, it would at least be amusing.

He lowered his fingers to her butt and spread them wide, revealing her puffy red ring, her prepubescent anus. If he looked at it carefully, real close, he could almost make out the worms writhing inside of her, stuck on her intestinal walls. The transformation had made it even fouler, even more vulgar to fuck, reeking of bacteria and decomposition, leaking droplets. All this metabolising of her faecal matter, all the self-lubrication were not without side-effects. Someone so pure and beautiful shouldn’t have something so nasty inside of her. The smell was like an aphrodisiac to him.

He got up, carrying her in the same position and lay her against a wall, hard wood on her chest and face. “You little whore,” he growled into her ear. His voice only got so low and husky when he was most aroused, when he wanted to fuck her senseless. “You haven’t even bled yet, you’re still a baby yourself, but you want to carry babies in your shithole.”

“Indeed, I am your virgin anal comedump.”

With a hand on her chest, and another around her thigh, he pulled back and lined himself up with her loose entrance. He pushed, she yelped, it resisted, but not nearly as much as their first time. He went in not long after, and immediately he was taken aback by how wet and warm she was; this was way above body temperature, and so wet it was almost as if she’d been holding back an enema. He pushed, further and further inside of her, uninterrupted, a well-lubed single stroke from tip to base, until there was nothing left to stuff inside her, until his balls touched her, until her stomach bulge hit the wall.

He could feel the worms around him, slithering around his girth, and she could feel them pressing against her shitter. He could feel her intestine shudder in orgasm, her moaning becoming a whimper as air was forced out of her lungs, as her little womb was squeezed from the other side, as her anus was once again stretched by his colossal girth. She’d only gone a few days without it, but it had been torture; ever since her anal awakening, she could hardly go a day without someone stuffing her arsehole.

When he pulled out, she could feel the friction from the worms as well as the villi, brushing against her bowels from all directions. This insane, bestial sex was the peak of pleasure. The worms stuck on his member as he pushed out, waiting to be reintroduced to the warm cavity of her shitting pipe. As he did, she could hear the sound of her body stretching, her soft flesh parting, as her abdomen inflated up to her chest, a couple of inches of cylindrical outline protruding from her little body.

The excretions of her bowels, the worms, and his penile villi produced a slimy, wretched mix, so immaculate an abomination it was a work of art. The gooey intonations of their every movement, when their bodies touched, when her colon stretched, were wonderfully tactile; the smell, too, was glorious. It didn’t take long for her poor anus to prolapse, a few inches of fleshy cloth decorating the very tip of his shaft as he pulled out, lines of viscous love connecting their bodies even when they were far apart. It was as appalling as knocking up her shitter ought to be, raping her in all the ways mother nature did not intend.

He grabbed her by her hair, pulling them up, using it as leverage, as he pressed her even harder against the wall. The best support she had was his cock as he entered her, pulling her up through her colon. He increased the pace when he got the hang of it, very little concern for her own sanity, just as she liked it. The sensation of the worms was especially noticeable on her anus and her prolapsing rectum, little bumpy lines adding a unique feel to the immense stretching, as if the fat orc wasn’t the only one fucking her, but also these _things_.

“Seriously? You’re going straight back to her?”

Ragna had woken up, no doubt roused by her moaning. Hjalmar paid her no mind, fucking Odilia just as hard, as if trying to prove something. She mumbled something to herself, but they couldn’t hear her over the noise of their intercourse; his grunts, her voice, the sweet bubbly sound of the ooze between them. She was taken aback by what her body could do now, like her arsehole wasn’t part of her any more, but a creature from another world that had somehow fused with her. It felt wonderful.

“You didn’t even finish! How are you supposed to have kids if you don’t finish?”

She could feel him all the way through her body. He wasn’t just fucking her arsehole, he was fucking her entire body. When he was all the way in her, balls deep, she could almost feel him fucking her soul, bending her wits out of shape as much as he was ruining her tummy. She could feel the surface tension on her skin rising as she bulged, could feel herself stretching inside and out, every nerve ending activating, every cell acquiring sexual functions.

“You’ve lost your mind, Hjalmar! You’ve turned into a monkey; you can think of nothing besides fucking her!”

Poor Ragna. It must be hard being an orc; she only had a few months to make use of her prime sexual years, before she became an old hag—an adult—a sorry imitation of her mate’s true desires. Hjalmar only had eyes for little elven kids now, see, especially buttsluts like her. Ragna didn’t even have it in herself to let him in her arsehole, so they were no match. She should sit quietly in a corner and let the two of them fuck; if Hjalmar was charitable enough, perhaps he’d allow her to masturbate to completion.

She’d had enough of this degradation. She grabbed an axe and came at him, but she’d grossly underestimated how much attention he’d been paying to her. He stopped pumping inside Odilia, letting her fall to the ground, and grabbed the handle before the lethal end could find the back of his skull. Ragna’s eyes widened, quickly realising how dumb and emotional she’d been, how much she’d acted like a brainless monkey herself. Perhaps an apology was forming in the back of her mind, or perhaps she was planning to double down. It mattered little now.

He turned the weapon around and planed the blade into her neck. It cut through her arteries and damaged her spine; she fell to the floor immediately. As he stood over her, it was obvious she could never hope to be a match for him.

His cock was throbbing, worms crawling around it, slime dripping down to the floor, a small puddle having already formed where Odilia stood, where they’d been fucking all this time. He turned around and grabbed her, guiding her face down close to Ragna’s still warm corpse, leaking fluids of its own on the floor, though of the red kind. With a hand on each of her thighs, he lifted her lower body and thrust inside her, her eager anus hardly resisting the insertion. He held her like that and he fucked her. He fucked her like an object.

“Do you see, slut? Your shitty hole is the only hole I need. Take it!”

“I… see…!” she said between breaths.

Her anus meant more to him than his bonds with other orcs. More than his pride in his race. More than the life of his mate, the would-be mother of his children. Everything he stood for before he’d met her was on the floor, bleeding out, warming Odilia’s cheek as it pooled closer to her. The orgasm that followed was more than worth it. He fucked her as he was coming, he fucked her until he came again. He fucked her as his hips felt sore, as Ragna’s corpse grew cold, as his semen flooded out of Odilia’s poop chute alongside her intestinal worms, as he filled her anew.

He didn’t stop fucking her.

It had been a bad idea to infest someone with such magical aptitude with those worms. But how could they know? She’d looked like a kid.

* * *

By the time someone was worried enough to risk interrupting Hjalmar in the middle of something important, Odilia was the only living person in the room. Ragna’s cause of death was obvious, what with the bloody axe near her. The chief had collapsed out of some combination of dehydration and exhaustion, so focused on fucking his sex slave that it was more important than drink and rest. Worms were already feasting on their bodies from the inside; normal worms, for the most part, though one could never be truly certain.

None of that seemed to have affected Odilia. It was strange, but in retrospect she was the one who was getting pumped full of fluids, not the one producing them.

“What the hell is going on?” the intruder said, and upon closer examination, “The chief is dead! The chief is fucking dead!”

Several orcs rushed into the building to see it with their own eyes. Hjalmar’s strength was almost mythical in the camp; the notion of him dying bordered on the comical. And yet, there he was, lying on the floor, not budging even when they tried to rouse him, his lungs not inhaling air, his heart not beating. Nobody had injured him, and yet he was dead.

Farther away, Odilia was licking what was left of his semen off her fingers, having scooped it up from all the parts of her body that he’d showered her. She didn’t look agonised by this turn of events whatsoever. She didn’t look scared. She didn’t look like a killer, for that matter. If there was any way of describing it, it would be unadulterated glee, like if someone was just coming down from the best, most fulfilling, most satisfying high of their lives.

“It was her! The elf did it!”

“That’s impossible. She’s just a child.”

“That ‘child’ is old enough to be your grandma, shit-for-brains!”

One of them grabbed her by her arm and dragged her closer. “Just look at her. She’s as guilty as they come!” A normal person would at least try to look phased when confronted with such an accusation, but not Odilia, not in her current state. “She’s a witch. That’s how their kind fights. She didn’t need to be larger than him. Who knows what sort of tricks she cast on him?”

“Kill her!”

“Yeah, kill her!” the orcs demanded.

He dragged her outside and dropped her on the ground where the camp could see. “We should have have cut your head and eaten you up when we had the chance.”

She looked up to him with the same large, emerald eyes that had captivated Hjalmar, that had captivated all the orcs that had come before him. She didn’t need magic to sway men’s hearts, she’d realised, though that didn’t mean she didn’t use any. Out there in the open, the smell of bodily fluids was even more obvious than inside the room, with two corpses masking what had been on her and inside of her. She smelled more like an orc than an elf by now, even if her elven elegance was still as obvious on her porcelain skin as the day they had found her.

“I am responsible for Hjalmar perishing, it is true. Perhaps I should have screamed for help earlier, though I doubt you would have come, and even if you did, you’d probably have to kill him to stop him from thrusting…”

“Fucking whore!” He prepared his axe, checking it to ensure it was sharp enough to behead her in one swing.

“I killed your chief. Is death punishment enough?” she asked a bit louder, so that more of the orcs could hear her. “Wouldn’t you like to teach me a thing or two first? To make sure nobody thinks of doing that again.” She was completely naked, any semblance of clothing and jewellery long since shred to pieces as Hjalmar fucked her like a maniac. She turned her back around and bent forward slightly, spreading her arse to reveal her massive red ring of an anus, puffy flesh stretching up to her tailbone, some sort of perverse doughnut, opening and closing as if it was breathing.

The smell was horrible, but it was also irresistible.

He knelt so that he could reach her, tracing her anus with a finger. “You should be ashamed of what an anal whore you are,” he said.

“You should teach me to be ashamed, then.”

He put a finger inside of her, and she swallowed it as easily as if he’d put it in her mouth. After all Hjalmar had done to her, she was looser than even Ragna had been, though she still managed to tighten around his finger and give him some degree of feedback. Curious about how much she could take, he inserted a second finger, still finding it much too easy, then a third, and a fourth, until his hand was inside of her, fisting her arsehole as she made cute, satisfied sounds.

“Fucking hell, she took it all.”

“What a buttslut.”

“There’s no way she wouldn’t break,” various orcs commented.

“Then rape me until I break.”

Unless he tried shoving his entire leg inside of her, she wouldn’t hold her breath. Hjalmar’s cock had been wider than this orc’s hand; his cock would be trivial for her. He pulled his hand out, and it was dripping with fluids, absolutely soaked in whatever was going on inside of her. He’d known Hjalmar had carried out some sort of ritual on her arsehole, but most of them had never seen what that entailed exactly.

Bringing his hand closer and closer to his face, he found the smell increasingly difficult to resist, finally licking it up, leaving no corner untouched. The onlookers found it strange and disgusting how he was drinking up something straight from her shithole, but he couldn’t have cared less; by now he was rock hard. His penis was long and thin, save for his wider, ball-shaped tip, totalling 7 or 8 inches in total; a very impressive size in general terms, especially for a skinny, 4 feet tall elven child, but nothing compared to the chief’s monstrous proportions.

When he thrust forward, she accepted him without resistance, the kind of which he’d never experienced from any cunt he’d raped. “Wow, you’ve really got an arsepussy!” Even though she was thoroughly well-fucked, her guts started tightening around him, her immense warmth and wetness almost disturbingly pleasant on his member. He fucked her as hard as he could immediately, no buildup or further commentary, just raw lust for her child body.

He’d always thought anal sex was for faggots, but the way her shitpipe felt was unbelievable. It was so hot, and impossibly wet, like no shitpipe should ever be, and for all its strangeness it was an amazing experience. He fucked her with everything he got, like nobody he’d ever fucked, and she accepted him despite her small size. It was wonderful how petite and young she was, her childish features making her sodomising so much dirtier and tastier. He found himself climaxing before long, far earlier than he’d expected.

“Oh, what was that?” Odilia said as he exited her with a pop. “I thought you were gonna rape me until I broke? Hm, what a shame, didn’t think I’d end up with a premature ejaculator. Perhaps one of your friends could help?”

“Shut up… you whore…,” he said between breaths. “I’ll show you—”

“Get out of the way,” a different orc said, pushing him aside. He pressed down on her from behind, shoving her face to the ground as he hips were still in the air. Also erect and ready, he entered her arsehole with equal ease—though he was quite girthier than the last one had been. “Fuck, this is some top notch shithole. It’s so hot.”

“Is it too hot for your paedo cocks?” she asked.

“I’m not a paedo.”

“Then why are you fucking a child’s arse?”

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” he said as he fucked her with a relentless pace, trying his best to outdo his predecessor. It was a valiant effort. The faster he fucked her, the more he could feel the worms inside of her butt adding friction to his motions. Her anus formed a large, puffy ring around his cock, fluids splashing around as their hips collided, reaching up to his navel. The smell was stronger now, strong enough that he couldn’t tell anything apart, strong enough that it dulled his already dull brain. He fucked her to prove he wasn’t a pervert. The more he fucked her, the more of a pervert he became. He didn’t last very long either.

All of the orcs took turns fucking her arsehole. They fucked her from every angle and in every position, and no matter how many of them fucked her, no matter how many times they fucked her, none of them could break her. Even after they were done, they waited for a second turn, filling her intestines with semen, so many different orcs having come inside of her that it was like a primordial ooze of orcish life.

She loved how shameful it was to be used in public like that. She had been reduced to some sort of toilet for them to deposit their semen, and they couldn’t get enough of her. The crowd around her grew from a handful of orcs to dozens, gradually increasing to include every single male of the camp. So many of them wanted to fuck her that they couldn’t wait in line so that they could have her one by one; soon enough, she was getting fucked by two orcs at a time almost constantly, her fartbox sufficiently stretchy to accomodate them.

She’d seen so many different shapes and sizes of cocks, but, alas, none of them compared to Hjalmar’s dimensions. Still, they gave her a good time. She could feel her belly bulging from their size and the amount of fluids they had filled her with, so much that it occasionally came flooding out in large quantities, like a fountain of semen placed on her shithole. She was constantly sandwiched between two massive orcs, incapable of moving.

And perhaps they were no more capable. All of these orcs, no matter how honourable or healthy they had been before, were now living only to ejaculate inside her arsehole, a prepubescent child’s ruined, infested, fertile arsehole. They fucked her where she used to poop from, hundreds of them, even though she looked nothing like an adult orc, even though her pussy was sealed—the hole the ought to desire. Two of them at a time, and, when they got desperate, three.

Odilia lost track of time; her life became a series of orcish cocks in her arsehole, punctuated by orcish tongues. Every few hours, when she got too dirty, they’d pour a bucket of water on her and then lick her clean. A bunch of orcs would gang up on her, six or more, grabbing any limb or piece of her they could find, and just licking. Feet, toes, legs, thighs, arms, armpits, chest, navel, spine, butt, lips, hair—it didn’t matter to them. They would taste her unnubile softness, her childish virginity maintained by her magical barrier, unyielding even after all these ordeals, knowing that no matter what they did to her arsehole, no matter how much her rectum prolapsed, she would remain pure and chaste.

For most of them, she was the first virgin they had in their lives. Perhaps they didn’t clean her with their tongues so much as her body cleaned their tongues. Whenever her toes were inside some orc’s mouth, it was like she was washing all of his sins away, imparting some of her bottomless, infinite purity, revitalising him so that he could later have his way with her arse.

If he had his way with her arse.

Because as more and more orcs arrived, many were perfectly content to finish using just her hands and just her legs, unleashing their semen on her beautiful skin. She could be straddling an orc, allowing him in her arse, as two of them were enjoying her armpits, finding them soft enough to double as pussies; no doubt the best pussies they’d ever had.

Odilia liked the young orcs the best, because she knew that she was likely the first woman they’d ever had. It felt special knowing that a barely adolescent orc’s first sexual experience would be with her worm-infested arsehole. How could they hope to lead a normal life after that? They’d be utterly broken, damned to lust after little children’s shitty holes, obsessed with an orifice without reproductive purpose, obsessed with little children. She gave them special attention, wanting to make sure she’d moulded their ideas for normal sexuality into something irreparably perverse; something that involved fucking a girl’s turd cutter, her soles, her underarms, but most definitely not her vagina.

Sometimes, fights broke out over who would get to fuck her first. Sometimes fewer people left the fight alive than had joined it. Sometimes they all formed a big circle around her and pissed on her to mark her as their mate.

At some point, one of them tried having one of the wargs fuck her. It looked like a far too large wolf, but her true interest lied between its hindlegs. For a brief moment, she was amazed by how far she had fallen, not even able to look at an animal without trying to find its cock, but then her anus fluttered at the sight of the 10 inch canine member, the largest of its kind she had seen yet. It wasn’t as thick as her thigh, unfortunately, but it would give her a bit of the bulging she longed for.

She thought she’d known what it meant to be degraded, but getting fucked by the warg brought new meaning to it. The orcs were terribly ugly and animalistic, and laying with them was practically bestiality. The warg was not even that. It had no ability to speak or reason; it really was a giant, stupid animal, driven entirely by instinct. She didn’t think it would be interested in an undeveloped elf’s anus, that its reproductive cravings ran too deep, that it couldn’t be tempted by a different species and a different hole.

It plunged its cock into her arse with as much passion as the orcs had; perhaps even more. It fucked her on her hands and knees, as if she was a female warg, enjoying the impeccable softness of her intestines far more than the cunts of its own kind. The magnificent beast was twice her size, the canine equivalent of a horse. She could feel its fur on her back, and brushing against her limbs as it thrust inside of her. Its wild motions betrayed how little concern it had for her, its unevolved brain a better home for blind, dumb lust than even an orc’s.

Odilia’s stomach bulged wonderfully when it was inside of her, her shithole acquiring the shape of its canine cock. The way she moaned, she had almost become an animal herself. This was her true nature, after all; a hole for beasts and animals to fuck, to relieve themselves after a good hunt, sullying her to their hearts’ content. The warg fucked and came inside of her like it was trying to get her pregnant. She wished she would get pregnant. She’d love to shit out a litter of warg puppies.

It knotted her and refused to pull out. When it deflated, it continued fucking her. By the third time, the orcs had got fed up with it, and they had to kill it in order to have their turn, for it refused to let go no matter what they tried to persuade it with. Its head severed, blood burst forth from its lonely neck, painting Odilia in an exotic red colour. It made for excellent lubrication as the orcs went another round, fucking her prolapsed shitting pipe using the animal’s ejaculate as an extra layer of lubricant.

* * *

Alwin prepared himself for the trials to come. That orc had warned him several times about how fearsome the chief could be, though he doubted anyone could stand 8 feet tall; that had to have been an exaggeration. He rewarded him for the information with a swift death; orcs were sinful for the mere fact of existing, after all. He’d lost count of how many of them he’d sliced through looking for his daughter.

He’d left a loving wife and an important position behind in search of Odilia. His friends thought it a foolish errand; the initial scouting party had returned empty-handed, and she was most likely dead by now. He didn’t want to believe it at first, but the more he thought about it, the less it mattered. Nothing would have been more disrespectful to her memory than forgetting she ever existed, idly making more children, like a bunch of domesticated rabbits. For every one of them they took, he’d kill a million. That was a proper last rite.

He knew where to look now. Perhaps it would have been better to write back, have an army backing him just in case. He didn’t have that time. Every second that he wasted was one more second Odilia would be forced to do unspeakable things. He didn’t even dare imagine what they might have done to her. His beautiful, innocent daughter, as pretty as she was brilliant. It had already been a month; he’d lived centuries, but those few days felt like eternity to him.

The more he walked in the camp’s direction, the more he thought that orc had been messing with him. It wasn’t difficult hiding things in a thick forest, but there ought to have been trails, or remnants of campfire, or chopped wood, or _something_. There were no signs of life, like the orcs hadn’t even tried hunting or foraging for the longest time. He found it suspicious.

Despite that, the camp was real; his eyes at least were no liars. He tried sneaking around it, trying to gather information, but there were no guards or scouts in sight. Some parts were in a state of disrepair; not by too much, but all the more suspect in the absence of any kind of security precautions. He tried seeing inside. It was devoid of life.

There were corpses everywhere. Some had obvious wounds, most didn’t. They were sprawled on the ground, covering vast expanses of it. Hundreds of them, more than this camp could sustain, like if several tribes of orcs had gathered together for some reason and they had all died of a toxic cloud or a disease or a spell. The smell was so bad he could hardly hear his thoughts.

_What happened here?_

He heard piercing, pained screams, a woman’s screams. In his bewilderment, he headed towards it without trying to sneak or mask his presence. He found his way into a hut, where a tiny, bloated creature was writhing. She was pregnant, and likely giving birth. She was covered in filth and grime, but what perplexed him was that she looked far too young to bear children; she had no breasts to feed them with. A prepubescent child couldn’t possibly be fertile. She must have been no more mature than his daughter. How was this possible?

The longer he watched that excruciating process, the more horrifying it got. It took him far too long to realise she wasn’t giving birth in any normal way; her anus had dilated to a grotesque size, its flesh bulging out and pulsating like a cancerous growth. Gradually, something that looked like a head made its way through, dragging some of her rectum with it. Though he was staring at it, Alwin couldn’t comprehend it, couldn’t come to terms with how unnatural it was.

The baby was on the ground, breathing with its own mouth for the first time, crying. It was horrifically misshaped, even for an orc, covered in ooze, and worms were squirming all over its body; he was certain he’d witnessed the birth of a monster. Above it, the girl’s rectum was hanging out like she was a bug who’d just laid an egg; worms were also crawling out of it. The stench was strong enough to overpower the decomposing corpses outside. He almost vomitted.

With her belly deflated, he could see more of the girl now. Even in her state, even under all those layers of fluids and dirt that made her look more orc than elf, he could make out his daughter’s fair features. Noises came out of his mouth, but they weren’t speech. He couldn’t find the right words even if he tried. He’d seen behind the curtain of reality, and the things he found there were pulling him to insanity like a thousand fishing reels.

“Ah, father, so nice to see you here,” Odilia said. She raised her legs, giving him a better view of her vulgar hole. “It’s warm and wet inside. Go ahead, try my butt. I bet mum never let you in hers.”

His cock twitched.


End file.
